


The Twisting of the Vines

by amongthieves



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, not sure where this is going, random plot but the focus is the relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9940937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthieves/pseuds/amongthieves
Summary: Harry's suddenly resurfaced in London after his death, and Eggsy, with the help of Q (and reluctantly Bond), bring him back. It's much more worse than they thought it was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I'm just casually working on to keep my hands busy and mind clear as I juggle fifty million things right now. Might move fast, might move slow. I'm trying to focus on characters and relationships, so if that's your thing, stick around! I haven't wrote fanfic in what seems like forever, so I'm so sorry is this is rusty. I really love the 00q/hartwin dynamic, so I'm going to be pushing that as much as I can.

Q raises his head from his desk, watching Eggsy stumble down the stairs at a speed that Q hasn’t quite seen before with an urgency in his steps that have him fearing for the worst. 

“I saw him, Q. I saw him out there. I need to know it’s him. _Please_.”

“Eggsy, slow down. You saw who?”

“Harry. I saw Harry.” And the desperation suddenly makes sense, Q’s stomach falling as he rounds his desk and opens his laptop, fingers a flurry against the keys. Eggsy is beside him, shoulders pressed together as they wait for the bloody thing to load. The database comes out and he’s following Eggsy’s finger against the screen, clicking on dots on a map and a number before a camera view comes open. 

“Go back a half an hour. Go on.” Eggsy folds his arms across his chest, holding in his breath as he looks at Q, who looks at the computer screen.

People at a cafe. Talking, chatty. Grainy faces. The sun is setting, and Q can tell because the lighting is awful. But even though all that, through the colored pixels, Q can make it out. It is him. 

“He’s alive.” And Q doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but it seems almost imaginary if he doesn’t acknowledge it. He flinches from the holler that comes from Eggsy’s smug mouth, fists up the air as though he’s just won the lottery. Q looks back to the screen, squinting at the paused image. Who’s sitting across from him? His head’s to the back of the camera, and Q knows there’s no more angles of this particular little hole in the wall. What’s he doing in England?

Why hadn’t M told him? He had a right to know considering—

Eggsy’s already bounding across the room.

“Where are you going?!” Q shouts, grabbing his laptop shut before starting to follow. He doesn’t get very far before the elevator doors and Bond comes into view. The two boys immediately stop in their tracks, still as stone as Bond steps out with polished shoes.

“Where are you two going?” Bond raises an eyebrow, doing up the last button on his navy jacket. The color looks good on him, Q thinks, before returning back to the moment, thinking quick on his feet.

“I need Agent Unwin to assist me in some weapons training. I developed something for him.”

“Hm. Well, I need your help right about now. I have to disappear again, only for a couple of days.” 

“I’m busy, Bond.”

“It’s _important_.”

“So is this.”

Eggsy shrugs his shoulders and steps into the elevator. Bond watches as Q follow behind him, head ducked down as to not meet questioning eyes. Eggsy taps the button and rolls his eyes at Bond before the doors shut. Q holds his computer to his chest, eyes closed as he starts to go through the reasons why MI6 might keep this a secret from the agents who had previously worked with him. It was Q’s malfunction and slow thinking that had gotten him killed. If only he could have intercepted Valentine’s device, he might have been still alive—

“Q— you can’t tell Bond ‘bout this.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“He’ll bloody well kill him.”

“I know.”

A mission gone sour, with Harry’s death leaving Bond in a Ukrainian basement, tortured to spill confidential secrets. Bond, of course, didn’t crack. He never did. But there was a part of him that when he came back, he hadn’t trusted Harry to do his job in the first place, their egos had always been clashing in the field. Months down the road after returning, Bond had heard whispers about a rogue British agent wracking havoc in all he wrong places. Bond had his suspicions, especially since MI6 had nothing on them. Eggsy denied it all, and with the dismemberment of the Kingsman, a special devision was created under MI6 watch. Bond was now stuck sharing a break room with Eggsy.

Which, to be honest, Bond was never around much anyways. So it never bothered Eggsy. But he was sure that Bond’s inklings were wrong. The man never had evidence.

He had to be alive. Just a little lost, maybe. Maybe a little dangerous.

—

“What do you think Harry’s doin’ back in London?” Eggsy’s voice crackles over the ear piece, and Q’s eyes flicker over the crowd. It was a busy Thursday evening, people lining the streets as they rushed to their dinner plans, or off home. 

“Not sure. If he’s here and hasn’t told us, that can only mean something’s wrong.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment. I trust him.”

“I know you do, but I don’t think that’s the case, Eggsy.”

“Nah, but I can hope, yeah?” 

They had watched the video footage across the city, watching Harry idle around streets, on benches, disappearing in and out of multiple buildings. They had found an apartment complex across from a busy square that Harry had last disappeared into, and they found themselves blending in the crowd. At least, Q was. If Eggsy was here, Harry might have caught on. Which, Q likes to think wouldn’t have been a bad thing. There must be a reason he’s hiding.

Is he in trouble?

The MI6 could help. At least, the MI6 today could. The previous years have not been good to him and Bond. Corruption, death, a shifting of responsibilities. 

“There. It’s him. It’s Harry Hart.”

Q’s eyes flicker to the apartment’s door from over his book, hat pulled tightly over his head. The agent is gorgeous, and Q finds himself cursing at the thought. Loneliness seems to trickle into every thought, reminding him that he was nothing like the two other agents he works with. He was nothing like Bond, nothing like Eggsy. Q just assumed he never satisfied his companions.

“He looks… preoccupied.” Q can imagine Eggsy jumping out of his seat, feeling so close yet so far from Harry. Feeling composed, Q stands and begins to trail the man, following him to a nearby pub. The line from Eggsy is silent. He can only assume that he’s left the base, or he’s keeping his distance in fear of messing up whatever plan they have in motion.

The room is dimly lit, bar counter long and shiny. Lanterns hang from the ceiling and Harry sits himself at the bar, away from two other strangers who look engrossed in their conversation. Q sits at the other end, pulling out his phone to keep his hands busy and his obvious gaze off Harry. A quiet jazz tune tinkers on in the background.

They drink slowly, Q having ordered a virgin drink as to not ruin his chances at bringing Harry back, considering he was an extreme lightweight. Who knew how long he would be here? If this was their only shot? 

“Fucking go talk to him. He’s never seen your face before. I need to see that he’s okay.”

Q sighs, picking up his glass by the rim before moving several seats over, in talking distance to Harry. He looks sideways at the former Kingsman, taking in his bespoke suit, glitzy watch, and tortoise shell glasses. The man’s groomed to perfection, and he looks over at Q before raising his glass.

“A toast?”

“To what?” Q leans against the counter, offering a small smile.

“To luck.”

“To luck.” Q raises his glass in accordance, the glass clinking together before the amber liquid touches their mouth and they’re both sipping at their drinks. 

“I’ve seen you around the city.” Q speaks slowly, repeating the words Eggsy whispers in his ear.

“Oh?” Harry’s brows are raised. Amusement? Curiosity? Q can’t tell.

“I’ve never met a tailor before.” 

“Then you must be mistaking me for someone else. I’m terribly sorry.” Harry shifts his body to indicate that he’s now drinking alone, eyes staring straight forward. 

“We need you back. Eggsy misses you—“ Q slides his drink aside, feeling the weight of his gun heavily on his back. He watches as Harry’s eyes dart to look at him out the corner of his eye. 

“Bruv! What the _fuck_?” Eggsy’s voice is shrill in his ear, and even though he’s deferring from the plan (a tactic he’s learned from Bond), Q stands off his stool. Harry does the same, sliding his empty glass towards the bartender. The room doesn’t notice them, and before Q has a chance to say anything more, Harry begins to make his way for the back door and beckons Q to follow him. With electricity running through his body, Q swallows and begins to follow, leaving a twenty on the counter for both of their drinks. 

They enter into an alleyway, and Q opens his mouth to start asking questions but suddenly, Harry’s hand is on his mouth, stifling his voice. He struggles, starts trying to pry the man’s grip off him, but he’s pushed against the brick wall, rain falling heavily onto the two of them.

“You pushed your luck, kid.” Another hand moves to his throat and he kicks as he feels his air circulation cut off. Gasping to air, he tries to bite Harry’s hands and the man drops him, drawing a gun. Q hears him pull the barrel back, the bullet loading into place. “I knew the MI6 would come looking for me. It was only a matter of time.”

“Harry—“

Suddenly, Harry stumbles back, the gun drops out of his hand and clatters onto the ground. Q cranes his neck to see a figure standing down the alley.

“You should have told me.” Bond’s voice fades in and out over the rain as he slowly sits up, rubbing at his throat. Harry lies motionless, and Bond kicks his shoe, scowling. “You should have told me, Q. This man is _dangerous_. You have a gun, don’t you? Use it much?”

“You think Eggsy would appreciate that? Why did you shoot him?”

“Tranquilizer,” Bond mumbles, setting the handgun aside to prop up Harry’s body. He searches his pockets, pulling out his wallet, items from his pockets — nothing of it holds any clue. Q taps at his ear piece, wincing, before he takes it out to see it busted. 

“Eggsy’s not going to like this.” Q slowly stands up, rubbing his back. His clothes are drenched right through, and he’s starting to feel a chill. 

“Come on, I’ll drop this idiot off at the facility, and drive you home. Send Eggsy an email, or something.” Q’s already on it before Bond gets the words out, sending a quick text.

‘ _He’s fine. Bond’s got him in custody. We’ll bring him back, wait for him to wake_.’ He looks to Bond, water dripping down his face, heart hardly slowing down to a manageable pace. “I can take the tube after we bring him in.”

His phone dings with atext. ’ _meet u there_ ’

Q rolls his eyes.

—

The tranquiler does its job, and Harry doesn’t wake up til Q’s had a half-assed night of rest and arrives back to work the next day.

He looks like a caged animal, sitting, eyes closed, glasses gone, dressed down to his slacks and dress shirt. His feet are bare, Q notices, and apparently Bond’s been standing, just staring at him, while he has his morning cup of tea.

“Shouldn’t you be in Brazil or something?” Q mutters as he walks past him, not paying any attention to his smug posture.

“And miss this? I can’t wait to see what they do with him. He’s killed four of our agents. He’s a fucking traitor. I know it’s him.” Q remembers the reports, and how he’s managed to keep them from Eggsy in the past couple of months as they tried to crack it open. Merlin, of course, knows. Merlin knows everything just seconds before Q does, and it drives him mental. Maybe Eggsy did know all along.

Q’s sigh carries down the hall.

Eggsy’s waiting in his office when he arrives, sitting at his desk, picking Q’s pen apart and then putting it back together.

“That’s my pen.” Q shouts from across the room, too early for any of his lackies to be milling about. It’s just him and Eggsy, and he can feel the agent’s anxiety from a couple of feet away.

“And?”

“Why are you playing with my pen and not trying to talk to Harry? I would appreciate it if you did, because then at least Bond might go do something productive.”

“You alright from yesterday?” Eggsy sets the pen down and sits up, making room for Q’s computer. 

“Fine. Why the concern?” 

“I just… I would have gone if I knew it was going to go down like that. Maybe he would have acted different if it had been me. Maybe—”

“Eggsy, it’s fine. It’s just a scratch.” Q shakes it off, not allowing his own anxiety start oozing from his pores. The idea that Harry was an incredibly talented agent, with a lack of memories regarding his situation and wanted to kill him, left Q feeling a little bit uneasy. “We got him. He can figure it out.” 

“I have a meeting with M in a bit. I just— I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ve seen Harry take out a room fulla cunts, and he doesn’t have a soft hit. Watched him punch a bloke off the ground once, it was incredible.” Eggsy flashes a quick grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. It’s interesting, to watch him and Bond walk past each other, complete polar opposites. Merlin tells him that Eggsy’s always been this way, but that he cleans up well in a suit. 

“I’m fine, really. Thank you, Eggsy. I have men in the labs sweeping all his belongings for finger prints. Something to do while we wait for him to talk.”

“Yeah, sounds good, bruv.” Eggsy gives him a little salute, which earns a smile from Q before the younger man departs, bouncing over to the elevator. 

For the morning, Q looks through footage, tracing every single location that Harry’s been to that they’ve caught on tape. Something either must have slipped him up to be caught, or he wanted to be caught. Leaning against his knuckles, Q huffs a breath of hot air at his screen, something not quite adding up.

“Working hard?” Bond’s voice startles him, and he looks up to see Bond standing over his shoulder, looking at the doomed in grainy image of Harry. “I’m not sure why he was trying to kill you. Did he say anything?”

Pushing himself away from his desk, Q rubs his eyes and yawns. “Said something about running out of luck? That he knew the MI6 was going to come for him. Clearly, he knows who I am and was prepared.” Bond looks at him with one of his classic expressionless gazes that has Q looking elsewhere at his computer screen, clicking at the trackpad. “I don’t know, Bond. Something feels off.” 

“I think you’re going to stay with me for the next couple of days before we get this situated.”

“Excuse me?” Q barks out a laugh, remembering his weak attempt at self-defense. He tries not to let it alters his demeanor. “You’re not my caretaker, 007. I don’t need someone to watch over me.”

“What if Harry didn’t kill the other agents? What if they’re like him?”


End file.
